


Rising Magic

by Writing_In_Denial



Category: DCU (Comics), Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Accidental Kid Acquisition, Anxiety Attacks, Banter, Child Death, Constantine has no idea what to do with a kid, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Demons, Families of Choice, Father Figures, Father-Son Relationship, Friends to family, Friendship, Gen, John Constantine Being an Asshole, Magic, Magic Gone Wrong, Mature Child, Mystery, Necromancy, Night Terrors, Original Character Being a Brat, Original Character Death(s), Parent-Child Relationship, Past Character Death, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Road Trips, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-02
Updated: 2019-08-08
Packaged: 2020-07-29 14:10:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20083519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writing_In_Denial/pseuds/Writing_In_Denial
Summary: John Constantine wasn't a man that enjoyed having children around. Yet when a child claiming to be a magic prodigy, strong-arms into getting John's help on a rather... curious case, he can't help but feel obligation due to old failings. Older now and definitely not any wiser, Constantine takes the case. He never expected to come to care for the brat. Updates every Friday!(Cross posted on Fanfiction.net!)





	1. Chapter 1

**[04:54 AM UTC, January 7th 2009]**

* * *

Well- Constantine wasn’t…he wasn’t expecting this.

He’s seen a bunch of things. The weird. Various oddities. The confusing and downright insane. That was the premise of fixing magical messes and mishaps (<strike>sometimes causing them too</strike>) is that you never knew what was in store for you. Yet, John thought he’d see everything that would have already shocked him by now.

He really wasn’t expecting this.

The little blonde boy sent him up a mighty scowl. It might have been more impressive, had the kid not been the staggering height of his _hip_. It was hilarious in a hysterical completely unamusing way.

He needed a drink.

Now wasn’t _that_ the best idea he had all day.

Staggering to his kitchen, he pulled open the fridge and glanced around. The fridge was painfully empty, John had been eating out lately. Yet down in the bottom next to some leftovers that were too old for John to remember were a couple cans of beer, snagging one from the bottom shelf, he pressed the cool can against his swollen bruised cheek. “So, kid- I assume you aren’t legally allowed to drink yet.” He wasn’t prepared for any guests to be half-pints with murderous scowls on their faces. He checked the pint of milk; it wasn’t _too _out of date- he thought. “Milk?” He offered.

“I _am not_ a child.” The-not-a-child-but-is-actually-a-total-child remarked. His thin arms crossing over his puffed-out chest. “I’m seven, and already a prodigy at magic.”

Constantine rolled his eyes. “I’m assuming that’s a no on the milk then.” He muttered, closing the fridge before walking back into the living room where his guest was standing wearily. He loosened his tie as he sat down on his rickety old couch. He then gave the boy a blank stare. The young boy just blew a strand of too long blonde hair from the front of his face. The older man shrugged. “Another ‘prodigy’ type eh? Well, if you’re such a prodigy, then why did you bother tracking me- John Constantine, resident consultant on the super natural- down, squirt?” He said in nonchalant sort of attitude. Popping the pull-tab on his can. He took a swig of it, only wishing he had something stronger. He gestured at the other couch, and the kid just made a face that is usually reserved for when someone steps on something particularly nasty and it’s stuck to the bottom of their shoe.

With a haughty huff- the kid remains standing. In fact, it partially would have been amusing, how uncomfortable the boy was. John was able to read him like an open book, despite the kid trying to act tough- it’s obvious that the kid was skittish but trying to hide it behind bravado. In fact, it almost reminded him of himself as a kid- really. He suddenly went pale as a thought crossed his mind. “How old did you say you were again? Seven you said?” Where was John seven years ago?

The kid (and maybe Constantine should _actually _ask his name, because he can’t just keep calling him kid- actually you know what? The kid broke into his apartment and practically strong-armed John into hearing him out. So, the kid deserves to keep being called kid, in the slightest and most petty revenge in return for the annoyance he gave him) seemed to be clever enough to follow John’s thoughts. Which he wasn’t expecting from someone _years _away from puberty. Clever little crotch goblin. The kid scrunched up his face like he tasted something foul. “Oh- **absolutely** not.” He remarked, his chubby little hands coming to lace together behind his back. It almost made Constantine snort, at how professional the kid was trying to be. “I assure you I have no relation to you- and once you are done helping me, you and I will never meet again.”

Confident little shit, wasn’t he? Constantine took another drink of his beer and tried not to chug the whole thing down at once. Most days he’s fine, but on days like this it feels like he’s a barely functioning alcoholic. He sighs once he’s done and presses the cool can back to his swollen bruised cheek.

Constantine was never _ever _going to mention the fact that he got decked out by a kid who looked like he still needed daily nap time in order to function. “What in the he-“ he probably shouldn’t cuss around the kid? “-Heck makes you think I’m going to help you?” The boy just rolls his eyes like Constantine is the one that’s being insufferable. “Especially after you, a. Broke into my apartment. And b. Punched me.”

The boy stuck his nose in the air and sniffed. “You startled me.”

“You startled me! You were in _my _apartment.”

The kid breezily shrugs his shoulders. “I wanted to make sure you wouldn’t walk away.”

Constantine couldn’t help but rile the kid up, “So your prodigious mind couldn’t figure it out by yourself?” he asked casually, resisting the urge to smirk when the kid gave him a glare so vicious- that if looks could kill he’d be six feet under. Instead he began swirling his beer around in his can absentmindedly as he fingered the lighter in his pocket. He wanted to light a cigarette up, but…well- kid. This was why he didn’t _do_ kids. The made things less fun. They were just so…delicate and squishy. Their constitution unable to handle basic things.

‘There’s another reason for not wanting to be around children’ a vicious part of John’s mind hissed at him. He compartmentalizes it quickly until it’s stowed away safely into a niche in the back of his mind.

He turns back to the kid, who’s hazel brown eyes just narrow at him darkly. “So, you decided just to stalk me and ambush me in my apartment?”

The boy let out a small ‘harrumph’ which told Constantine he wasn’t exactly wrong.

Constantine let out a long-suffering sigh. “Fine. Fine. I’ll hear you out, but there’s no guarantee that I’m going to help you.” He finished off the last dregs of his drink, and then crushed the can in his palm.

The boy gave a solemn nod, his features smoothing into a calm mask. “That’s all I can ask of you I suppose.”

Constantine gestured for the boy to go ahead and describe his situation, then tossed his beer can at the trash- it missed and bounced off it and rolled onto floor. Therefore, he needed to put a trashcan close to the couch.

John was expecting something like ‘help me find my pet with your magic’ or some sob story about missing parents, or maybe demonic summoning rituals the kid liked to preform in the basement wearing bunny slippers. However, this kid really liked to throw him for a loop. Because he wasn’t expecting the next thing that came from the kid’s mouth.

His face lost its smooth mask and crumpled into something a little lost- and a little sad.

“I’m supposed to be **dead**.” He uttered.

John’s blood ran cold.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Constantine manages to get some answers from the mysterious little crotch goblin that broke into his apartment. A deal is struck, and some furniture is ruined in the process.

** [05:01 AM UTC January 7th 2009] **

Constantine was hunched forward, his folded together hands pressed against the thin lines of his lips as he pursed them together tightly in thought. “Don’t you think it’s a bit early to start having suicidal thoughts, mate?”

The boy snarled. “This isn’t a joke!” The anxious looking kid started pacing back and forth, trying his best to wear a hole in his carpet. To be fair, it  _ was _ shitty carpet. “It was five days ago- maybe six. My mother had been put on the pyre to burn- as I was. The last thing I remember…” The kid sounded a little choked up but shook his head quickly. The determined look on his face.

“The last thing I remember is that it 1692. Now it’s 2009, and the world is… weird, strange- there are carriages that work without horses! There are little handheld things that people stare at! Your buildings touch the sky and-“the kid was hyperventilating now and Constantine was really hoping he would pass out or something- because he couldn’t comfort people. Much less a kid.

His pacing stopped and the boy threw up his arms frantically. Not seeming to notice that his chest was heaving up and down. He just kept talking, like he couldn’t stop. “So, I just started following the largest magical source I could- hoping that whatever it was would be useful. It turned out to be  _ you _ .” He hissed, teeth clenched. “But I could never get a lock on you, you kept moving- and the days turned into weeks and weeks into months- and I thought I’d never find it-you-“

It was getting downright painful to watch. So, Constantine finally decided to step in. “Kid- calm down.”

“I am calm!” The kid snarled. Good, Constantine could work with anger. Panic- not so much. The kid balled his hands into fists so tightly that they trembled beside him. The man wasn’t sure if it was from anger or fear.

Constantine almost wondered if he could get the kid to feel better if he goaded him to punch him again- but then he remembered how bad the first punch hurt. Instead, he just breathed deeply- knowing that the kid was watching him. Constantine did a show of it, holding his breath for a few moments before letting it out in a long exhale. Then repeated. The kid either subconsciously or purposefully mimicked his actions, and the trembling stopped as he got control of his breathing. Following Constantine’s breath.

Thank God, crisis averted.

“Look, mate-“

“Henry.” He bit out. The kid finally collapsing on the couch on the opposite side of the beaten coffee table from Constantine. “My name is Henry Ancock.” The kid- Henry, his mind supplies- looks even smaller while settled into the broken and busted black leather couch. His shoulders hunched and any bravado he had earlier was slipping. “My name is Henry Ancock, and I was supposed to be burned to death…I  _ was _ . I should be dead- so  _ why _ am I not dead?” He asked.

Constantine couldn’t give him an answer to that. By all accounts- necromancy should be impossible. There is no way to bring the dead back to life, that is what every magic book and every witch worth her hex bag would tell you. See, magic always had a price- and even basic spells had it. That price just being the amount of energy that it would consume. That, and the invocation that was casted when applying the spell. Yet for a person and their soul? You couldn’t accurately identify the price on something like that. So, everyone just assumed it was a price that was too large to afford.

If the kid was telling the truth, then whoever brought him back was a  _ big _ spender, and that was quite disturbing. Someone- or something with that much raw magical power…

Taking a large inhale- John looked over the seven-year-old. “I can sense magic on you, but nothing that I would assume to come from a large level spell. Maybe traces of it, but it’s hard to tell already with your magic.” He remarked. It would be easier to tell if the kid also wasn’t a magic user. “Most of the ambient energy could have worn off while you were looking for me, or you could have absorbed it into yourself. You do have a very large magical energy pool.”

The kid gave a small prideful look, and Constantine couldn’t tell why- but it looked infinitely better on the kid’s- Henry’s- face than that small defeated little look. “It’s always been like that.”

John finally leaned back in his own seat. Silently mulling over the information he’s been given. He’d have known if the kid was lying, unless he was a better actor than the kid was letting on. Though Constantine doubted it. So, either this kid was telling the truth, or even something more convoluted was going on here to make the kid think all of this was true. “Alright.”

“Alright?” The kid asked. Constantine could tell he was nervous, though he tried to do that thing where his features would smooth out into something attempting to resemble a professional face. Though the rigidness in his shoulders gave him away.

“Yeah. Alright. I’m in. I’ll do it.”

He saw the boy’s shoulder’s sag and his eyes betrayed his relief.

Constantine just shrugged. “A nice bit of a mystery to be sorted out. Might as well get to it.” He rolled his shoulders. It’s not like he had much of anything else lined up anyways. “I’ll need to find out where you were buried.” He didn’t miss the wince the kid gave. “Some lingering energy might be there, and we might be able to find whoever did the spell using the remnants of it. I just have to find a place to hole you up until I figure out what’s going on-“

John would never mention the way he flinched at the way that the little crotch goblin rocketed up from the couch and to his feet. Henry was like a bunch of explosives packed into one very tiny package. Amusing and deadly in equal measure. “No. I didn’t come all this way just to get pushed to the side.” He snarled. Constantine wasn’t sure what was worse, mopey panicked kid, or righteously angry kid. Both seemed to be a pain in the ass for him.

“Look, crotch goblin-“ he ignored the indignant squawk the boy gave at the nickname. “I don’t  _ do  _ the whole…kid thing.” He made some vague hand gestures. “They are annoying, smelly, delicate and needy. They cramp my style.” When the kid scrunched his face up in confusion, Constantine figured that the boy didn’t understand the last colloquial. So, he put it in terms he’d understand. “Kids ruin my fun.” He stated simply.

The kid looked flustered now, his blush rising on his pale skin- covering his cheeks and rising in blotches along his neck and the tips of his ears. Likely from rage. The kid sufficiently looked like a tea kettle waiting to blow steam. “Well I’m sorry my ruined death managed to ruin your fun!” He hissed. Even going as far to stomp his foot like a prissy toddler. “But I’m not standing around-  _ twiddling my thumbs _ as some bastard runs around without my consultation!”

Fine, if the kid was going to swear, so would he. Constantine filed it away for later and shook his head slightly. “ _ Your _ consultation?” He asked the kid with no small amount of amusement. “You came to me kid- so we work by my rules.”

“Your rules are idiotic!” The boy snarled. “I can handle myself!”

Constantine snorted. “Yes, because resorting to breaking and entering and then assault sounds so much like being able to handle yourself, mate.”

The kid gave an incoherent yell, and suddenly his coffee table erupted into an explosion of sparks and splinters. Now Constantine feels less silly about pushing his coffee table out to use it as a footrest earlier- because if the table had been closer, it would have done some damage.

He blinked, Henry in front of him heaving in exertion from his magical tantrum.

The kid had just done a spell without speaking. Well, technically there was some screaming. However, he’s pretty sure whatever garbled words that came from the kid’s throat did  _ not _ count as an invocation.

One question plagued his mind. ‘How?’

When Henry was calm, the kid jutted his little chin up at Constantine. “You’re taking me with you.”

Constantine couldn’t find it in him to argue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! I hope you are enjoying this piece! This was a more self-indulgent fic than anything. I have about three chapters in advance written up and am planning for this to be a weekly posting- if I can stay ahead of the chapters... anyways. This was going posted this Friday, but I couldn’t wait- so I decided to post it today instead. I’m not how many chapters this is going to be- but I’m hoping I’ll be able to finish. I don’t really have a good track record with multi-chapter stories, yet that’s all I’m able to write it seems.  
Anyways, leave a comment if you liked or didn’t like this chapter! I enjoy any and all forms of criticism, and if you see any mistakes- let me know. I don’t really have anyone willing to beta so it’s mostly just me! I hope you are enjoying this as much as I am writing this, see you next week.

**Author's Note:**

> I've only seen John Constantine in a few things before, so he might be ooc in this. Though I wanted to write him since we never see hide nor hair of him in Young Justice (to my knowledge, I haven't seen outsiders yet, only season 1 & 2) so I tried to merge his character into Young Justice. 
> 
> Then I decided to make it an oc fanfic, and this happened. You never see oc fanfics mostly not in the oc's point of view, so it was pretty fun to attempt to do. This is actually a first for me.
> 
> For more inspiration; you see constant accidental baby acquisition fics, I just thought it would be fun to do and accidental kid acquisition one where the person acquiring the kid obviously has no idea what to do with children- while the child in question is a jerk.
> 
> Anyways, I have about three other chapters written and I'm continuing writing a fourth. I have no idea how long this story will be, but knowing me I likely won't finish it. I'll try though! I'll submit the next chapter I have written sometime next Friday or so, unless I get lazy.


End file.
